


Stag Night

by aunt_zelda



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Biting, Burlesque, Consensual Non-Consent, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Knifeplay, Love Confessions, M/M, Predator/Prey, Rape Roleplay, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: Modern AU, Jon and Martin are getting married and each have very different bachelor parties.Martin gets hauled out to a show by Tim and Sasha, while Jon goes to a cabin by a lake for something intimate.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	Stag Night

**Author's Note:**

> Dex has this lovely modern AU going and gave me the idea on Twitter of Daisy being Jon's best man. Which invited me to think about what kind of bachelor party they'd have, and then this fic idea came about. Jon and Martin having very different bachelor parties. 
> 
> Then the fic ran away from me and ... I just had to finish it up and post.
> 
> Fun fact the burlesque acts are based on real shows I've seen, mostly from the d20Burlesque group, as well as Gorilla Tango Burlesque which is sadly no more.

Martin’s bachelor party was going to be a quiet night out to his favorite pub, before Tim got wind of his plans. 

“Oh no, I am not allowing this.” Tim insisted. 

“Tim, planning this wedding has been so stressful, I can’t do more organizing!” Martin wailed. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little almost-married head,” Tim said, patting Martin on the head. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Martin had feared a tour of loud clubs and increasingly seedy strip joints, but agreed. He was too exhausted to object to someone else taking over a plan. 

Instead of his fears, Martin was ushered by a giggling, glittering Sasha and a smirking Tim into a small, well-lit theater. 

“What is this?” Maritn asked suspiciously as he was steered to an overpriced pop-up bar and Tim and Sasha shoved drinks into his hands. 

“Oh you’ll see.” Tim said mysteriously. 

“We’ll all see!” Sasha sipped her drink.

Martin soon sat wedged between the two of them, peering up at a curtained stage. 

The lights dimmed. The curtain rose. A woman rollerskated to center stage, dressed in a plush Dalek dress. Electronic music began to play, a remix of the iconic Doctor Who theme. The woman twirled around. Then she began to pop each of the gold bulbs on her costume off, revealing patches of bare skin beneath.

“Oh.” Martin gasped. 

The woman shimmied out of her dress, standing proudly in golden lingerie. 

“Oh!” Martin blushed. 

The woman bobbed up and down, finally leaning over and displaying small blue TARDIS stickers over her nipples. 

“Thank you,” Martin mumbled as he applauded with the crowd and the Dalek pranced offstage. 

“Happy Stag Night, mate!” Tim gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Oooooh, the next one’s my roommate’s ex!” Sasha said, perking up. “She does this amazing routine with hula-hoops!” 

Martin watched a plump woman with a blue wig race onstage, wielding two golden hula-hoops. “She’s Sonic!” he was delighted at the choice of props. 

“Oh yeah, she goes fast.” Sasha clinked her glass with Martin’s. “You should tip her during intermission. They do meet and greets then.”

Wide-eyed, Martin watched the woman spinning the hula-hoops around her hips. “I … I should, yes.” 

~*~

Jon took a deep breath. The air was different outside of London. It was quieter too, he had grown accustomed to the background noise of a city over the years but when he managed to escape it, even for a little while, the silence blanketed him. 

The lap of the lake water on the dock, the distant cries of birds, the wind rustling the trees … Jon could hear his own heartbeat. He could hear it slowing to a steady pace. 

There was a book on his lap but he hadn’t made much progress. His impending wedding weighed heavily on his mind, anticipation and anxiety all rolled into one. 

Jon shook his head and tried to re-center himself. He could relax. He had to. He had to try. 

The snap of a twig startled him. He dropped his book and turned around in his chair.

A woman stood by the corner of the house. Her eyes were locked on Jon.

Slowly, Jon stood up and took a step backwards. Then another. And another. 

The woman darted forward. 

Jon ran. 

He managed to bolt up the path that led around the lake and duck behind a fallen tree, heart thudding in his ears. Panting, he clapped a hand over his mouth to try and stifle the sounds he was making. 

She found him of course. In a flash she hauled him from his hiding place and pinned him to the ground. 

“Please –” Jon gasped out. 

She drew a knife.

“No …” Jon moaned and let his head fall back against the ground. 

She cut his shirt away first, sliding the blade carefully along the seams and tossing aside the scraps of fabric. Then she traced her knife over the curves of his body, pressing over the slope of his belly. 

“Don’t,” Jon begged, arching his hips up.

She cut away his trousers and pants too. 

Wordlessly, she pawed at his erection, bringing him to full hardness. With her blade at his throat, she shifted her hips to settle on him, sliding his length into herself and huffing at the exertion. Slowly, brutally, she began to move, fucking him until she spasmed and howled out her pleasure above him. 

Once she’d clambered off of him, she raked her nails over his nipples. She nuzzled at his neck and grazed her teeth over his sensitive skin. 

Crying from the overwhelming stimulation, Jon came as he felt her teeth draw blood. 

~*~

Martin shyly approached the woman in the blue wig during intermission. She was posing onstage with some of the audience coming up for photos and flirting, and had several bills stuffed into her garter belts at this point. 

“Er, hello,” he knew his face was very red both from embarrassment and the drinks Tim and Sasha had pushed into his hands. “Your dancing was beautiful.”

“Aw, thanks.” She adjusted her wig. “Want a picture? It’ll cost you twenty.”

“I’ll pay for that.” Tim said, proffering a bill to Martin, who tentatively tucked it into Sonic’s garter belt. “Stag night, you’re not paying for anything.”

“Oooooh, who’s the lucky soon-to-be-spouse?” Sonic asked, beckoning Martin closer and turning him around, draping her arms around him and resting her ample bosom on his head. 

“My beanpole of a boss. Lucky bastard doesn’t deserve our Martin here.” Tim held up his phone and snapped a shot of the two of them. “Perfect!”

“Thank you!” Martin gulped. 

“Good luck with the wedding!” Sonic winked. 

“Tim!” Martin hissed as they made their way back to their seats. 

“What? It’s true!” Tim nudges Martin clumsily in the side. “I’m glad you’re happy and all, but I still think Jon got the better end of this deal.”

“That’s not how it works.” Martin grumbled, settling himself back into his chair. 

“Tim, are you trying to steal Martin away again?” Sasha asked, peering up from her program. 

“Shut it, Sash,” Tim squirmed and looked away. 

“Again?” Martin spluttered. 

The lights dimmed. 

“Wait, Tim –!”

“Shhhhh!” hissed a voice behind them. 

Martin went silent. 

A man in a black hoodie streaked with the Spider-Man suit pattern gyrated out onstage. He fell to his knees and flipped down the hood, revealing a Venom-like mouth of fabric. Soon he was pulling at his costume, but every piece removed caused him to shift more and more into the Venom persona. 

Martin cheered and laughed and applauded with the crowd. Sasha had fetched more drinks during intermission and passed them out between acts. Tim kept meeting Martin’s eyes and glancing away hurriedly. 

~*~

Daisy carried Jon back to the cabin. Jon was capable of walking himself, he insisted, but Daisy had bared her teeth and Jon hadn’t pushed the issue. 

Now Daisy was cooking. Jon was capable of cooking for himself, but Daisy had growled when he’d tried to enter Her Kitchen and Jon had sat down to wait for the food. 

It was part of the routine, Jon knew. He’d asked her once and she’d said “monsters don’t cook breakfast” and left it at that. 

“Breakfast for dinner.” Daisy announced, setting down two plates. 

Jon ate, sighing in pleasure at the warm, rich food. It was everything he needed now. With each bite he felt more grounded and settled into himself. 

“Thank you.” Jon said as the meal was finished. 

“Welcome.”

“Not just for the food. For … everything.”

“I know.” Daisy glanced at him. “You want it again?”

Rarely, Jon needed more. “Not this time.”

“Ok.” Daisy finished her water. “Few hours the moon will be up over the trees. I’m going to swim. You can come if you like.” 

“I didn’t bring anything.”

“Neither did I.” Daisy looked at him. “Don’t need clothes to swim, not in the dark.”

Jon cleared the plates. He set up the bed for later and built up the fire. Daisy stretched and started shedding her clothes. She folded each piece and arranged them in the corner by the door. 

Daisy left and Jon followed. She walked steadily along the dock and looked up at the moon. It was nearly full, spreading a glowing light across the lake. 

With a soft splash, Daisy slid into the water. 

Jon hesitated, knowing it would be cold, thinking of fish and eels and slimy plants. Then he striped off his clothes and jumped in after her. 

Daisy paddled over to him, circling him in something between a protective and predatory manner. 

They swam in silence as the moon climbed over them. Finally Daisy emerged and helped Jon out after her. 

They returned to the cabin, drying each other off and getting into pajamas. Daisy pulled Jon close in bed, strong arms holding him tight. She rested her chin on his shoulder, pressing her lips over a mark from earlier. 

Jon slipped into quiet, peaceful rest. 

~*~

Martin was drunk. Martin hadn’t been properly sloshed with his friends in ages. Martin was hugging Sasha as she said her goodbyes for the evening, having successfully flirted her way into the good graces of one of the performers. 

“Get him home safe, yeah?” Sasha grabbed Tim’s face and made eye contact. “I’m counting on you, Stoker.”

“Worry not!” Tim struck a heroic pose. “I shall safely escort this delicate flower to his castle.”

Sasha gave Martin another hug and traipsed over to the waiting performer. 

“I’m not delicate,” Martin slurred, trying to nudge Tim and shoving him harder than he’d intended. 

“I know, I know,” Tim ruffled Martin’s hair. “Come on, I’ll get us a cab.”

Tim insisted on accompanying Martin up to his flat to make sure he hadn’t lost his keys. As Martin fumbled for the door, Tim leaned against the wall, looking at Martin strangely. 

“Something wrong?” Martin asked, hand on the doorknob. 

“Why did we never make a go of it?” Tim asked. 

Martin blinked. “What?”

“You and me. You’re … you’re so beautiful, and soft, and you’re so nice, all the time, you’re so nice, and you’re so fucking funny, Martin,” Tim rubbed at his forehead. “Where did I go wrong?” 

Martin sighed heavily. “You’re drunk, Tim.”

“Tell me.” Tim looked at him suddenly, swaying slightly on his feet.

“The truth?” Martin asked. He could invent a dozen excuses that would mollify Tim. Blame his own anxiety, his insecurities over his looks, claim Tim reminded him of a bad ex, anything. 

“Yeah.” Tim looked serious. 

“You never asked me.” Martin opened the door and headed inside. 

Martin heard a muffled curse behind him. 

“Tim? I’ve got a couch. Please don’t go back out tonight.”

“Is that ok?” Tim asked. “I just, I mean, I don’t want to make this weird … shit. I’m sorry. I’m drunk. That’s not an excuse. Shit.”

“No it’s … I’m glad you got it off your chest.” Martin shrugs. “Come on. It won’t be weird.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Tim.” Martin said, in a voice that allowed for no argument. 

Tim drank water while Martin got sheets and a pillow for the couch. 

“You’re so good,” Tim mumbled, settling in for the night. “Too good for … for him … last time I’ll … say it …” 

Martin patted him on the shoulder and went to sleep in his and Jon’s room. 

~*~

Jon returned home late Sunday night. 

“Good trip?” Martin asked. 

“Yes. It was … very soothing.” Jon set down his bag and collapsed on the couch. “And you? How was your night of debauchery?” 

Martin blushed. “Tim and Sasha took me to a burlesque show. It was very nice.”

Jon made a ‘hmmm’ noise. “Was that … fun? 

“Very!” Martin grinned. “You might like it? Some of the skits were really clever. One of them was doing a Settlers of Catan thing?”

Jon listened as Martin explained some of the skits, laughing at descriptions of a few of the twists on the routines. “That does sound interesting. Maybe sometime?”

“No pressure.” Martin settled on the other end of the couch. “So apparently Tim’s had a crush on me for a while.”

“… has he?” Jon’s face went blank, his voice flat. 

“Told me last night.”

“Did he.” Jon eyed Martin up and down. “What else did he do?”

“He slept on the couch. We’d had too much to drink, didn’t want him tripping down the stairs.” 

“Mmmm.” Jon frowned. “I’m supposed to … fly into some kind of jealous rage about now, right?”

“I would hope not?” Martin raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, good.” Jon shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds exhausting.”

“I do like that you asked though.” Martin shifted closer to Jon. “Defending my honor … nobody’s done that for me before.”

Jon snorted. “Nobody would have had to. You’re perfectly capable of defending yourself.”

“True. Still.” Martin cuddled up to Jon’s side. “The sentiment is appreciated.” 

“Tim has good taste, we all knew that.” Jon draped an arm around Martin’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “But I don’t want to talk about Tim right now.” 

“Oh, what do you want to talk about?” Martin asked, smirking. 

“My future husband.” Jon kissed Martin.

Martin deepened the kiss and grasped at the back of Jon’s head. 

“Did she leave marks?” Martin asked, as they broke the kiss, still clinging to each other.

“A few.” Jon said. “Does that make you jealous?”

“No.” Martin starts to pull at Jon’s sweater. “It makes me motivated.”

Jon smiled and let Martin push him backwards on the couch.

Martin set about giving Jon several marks of his own devising before bed.


End file.
